At a cottage door one winter night, as the snow lay on the ground,
A youthful Irish soldier boy to the mountains he was bound,
His mother stood beside him saying, "You'll win, my boy, don't fear",
And with loving arms around his waist she tied a bandolier.

"Goodbye, God bless you, mother dear, I hope your heart won't pain,
But you'll pray to God that soon you'll see your soldier boy again,
And when I'm in the firing line it will be a source of joy,
To know that you're the mother proud of an Irish soldier boy."

Oh, grand it was to see him go, in his youthful strength and pride,
As straight and firm as the mountain grass, that grows by Innis side,
He left a memory in the heart, that time can never destroy,
And said, "Mother, dear, I know you'll pray for your Irish soldier boy."

When the fighting it was over and the flag of truce was raised,
The leaders of the fight did see, all Ireland were amazed,
And his comrades came to her cottage door, with a note from her pride and joy,
Containing the last courageous words of her Irish soldier boy.

"Goodbye, God bless you, mother dear, I'm dying a death so grand,
Of wounds received in action trying to free my native land,
And when at night you'll kneel to pray it will be a source of joy,
To know that you're the mother proud of an Irish soldier boy.".